


The Spy Who Saved the Show

by midnight_marimba



Series: The Art of the Stage Kiss [1]
Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Act 3 spoilers, Background Luminary/Gemma, M/M, Nonbinary Sylvia | Sylvando (Dragon Quest XI), Post-Game, Spy Shenanigans, Stealing the Show, Sylv PoV, Sylv and Erik being old friends, Theater - Freeform, a faint whiff of romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27518314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnight_marimba/pseuds/midnight_marimba
Summary: It’s always been my dream to run a theater.  Now I’m finally living that dream.  I get to act, and I get to bring other people into the spotlight alongside The Great Sylv, and together, we’ll make millions smile.But as absolutely marvellous and deeply fulfilling as that is, I think the thing that still makes me smile the most is having friends drop in on me.  Even when they need a favor.  No, especially when they need a favor.  Especially when it’s Spymaster Erik, and I get to invent a costume on the fly.And every once in a while, he does a pretty huge favor for me, too.
Relationships: Camus | Erik & Sylvia | Sylvando (Dragon Quest XI), Camus | Erik/Sylvia | Sylvando (Dragon Quest XI)
Series: The Art of the Stage Kiss [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2011258
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	The Spy Who Saved the Show

**Author's Note:**

> This fic (or series-to-be?) is unconnected to my other works. (Although if you're interested in the ship, you may also enjoy my shameless self-promotion of [When Home Isn't Marked on the Map](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24323998/chapters/58643557).)
> 
> Act 3 / postgame spoilers, and a content advisory for mention of alcohol and poison.

I looked up at a knock on the door, and I barely even jumped this time when I saw that Erik was already standing inside the room, just tapping softly on the door frame from the inside to get my attention.

“Afternoon, Sylv. Got time for a consultation?”

“For you, darling, always. What are you looking for?” I set down the costume I was working on. Of course, I had plenty of help to outfit my troupes these days, but I liked to keep my hand in. There was something about customizing my own clothing that I’d always found deeply satisfying.

“I’m heading to a big fancy garden party in the cold. Think I’d better be minor nobility. Third son visiting from a distant country holding, sort of a thing. Got anything for me?”

“I should. Let’s see what we can find.” I stood up and led him into the costume room to begin the hunt.

When I’d been granted a surprisingly large amount of space to build a theater in the middle of the city of Heliodor itself, I’d thought I was being incredibly self-indulgent with the amount of space I’d allocated for collecting and storing costumes. I loved having all kinds of options at hand, but I’d managed to store all of my own outfits in a single wardrobe on a ship for years. This room was three or four times the size of my papi’s bedroom back in Puerto Valor.

I remembered walking inside the room right after it was built and feeling almost embarrassed to imagine the excess of space surrounding the several racks of clothing I envisioned needing for the next few years of performances. Sure, there would be a couple dozen people needing a few costumes each for any given performance, but that still accounted for less than a tenth of the space.

After the first big production, I’d decided to keep the costumes on hand, in case they could be lightly modified to make a new set of costumes. They could, and they were, and they took on new life in the third production. But by then, the costume collection had grown by four times. One of the plays called for a larger number of costume changes, and then we started getting donations of garments by enterprising merchants.

And then we started having more groups asking for stage time. A dance troupe. A choir. Some acrobats. A lecturer on science and magic, who wasn’t so worried about costumes but did need some space for his props. Jade had approached me with a lovely idea about running a children’s theater group or two, so now there was space for those costumes to the side. 

There were all kinds of spectacles crossing my stage, and I couldn’t be happier about it. But that meant that now, two years in, the room was more or less full. 

I was beyond grateful to Eleven for, well, a lot of things, of course, but when I was in the theater, I was mostly grateful to him for marrying Gemma, then establishing a shop together with her in Heliodor, and then introducing me to both her tailoring expertise and her logistical mastery.

I’d hired Gemma to be in charge of managing the theater’s inventory, because after only a few months of building up a supply, I’d found it overwhelming to decide which items to sacrifice in order to make more room, and Gemma had easily as fabulous a vision for what would make a good ensemble for upcoming performances as I did, myself. Not to mention her impeccable skill with needle and thread. When she’d agreed to take up this branch of the behind-the-scenes theater work, it took a massive weight off my shoulders.

It did mean that every time Erik showed up asking for assistance with a new disguise, I never knew exactly what I was going to find for him, back there in the costume room. We could have asked Gemma, I supposed, but I think we both kind of liked the feeling of going on a treasure hunt.

“A third son’s going to have something unique, but not too distinctive,” I said. “Let’s check on the novelty donations. Back here, last I looked.”

I found the section for miscellaneous single outfits, very roughly sorted by size. We’d adjust the fit once we matched a garment to a specific body, of course, but there was adjusting a fit, and then there was trying to shrink a tent to suit a mouse.

Erik had a fairly common build, though, so it usually wasn’t too hard to find something that was already close to the mark for him.

“This is nice,” he commented, running a rich red sleeve through his fingers. “Eh. Not warm at all though.”

I nodded acknowledgement, and I smiled at my observation that he’d finally gotten comfortable expressing an opinion about what he liked in an outfit. He had always tended to let other people decide what he should wear for the first years that I’d known him. When he first started asking me for help with his spy disguises, he’d just given me a vague description of his requirements and then followed me through the racks like a puppy, without venturing the smallest opinion.

Now, he actually participated in flipping through the store of clothing, often stopping to hold up a suggestion for my feedback. I had faith, now, that he’d at least complain a bit if I put him into something he hated, though I could always still persuade him on critical matters of fashion.

I found a fur-lined coat. “Oh, I remember this. I figured it would be too hot to run around on stage wearing the thing, but it was donated by a merchant who buys a box seat for every show, and I hated to tell them we wouldn’t likely use it. Why don’t you give it a try?”

We judged the coat acceptable without modification, and it came with a matching hat. The red shirt needed only a quick modification along two of the seams, and for a piece that Erik openly appreciated, I didn’t mind the work at all. Trousers were easy enough, and we found some suitably elegant boots that could be made to work with extra socks.

“You’re going this afternoon?” I asked as we headed back to the dressing room.

“Yeah. Wanna doll me up?”

“Of course I do, honey.” I waved a hand in invitation, and Erik set down his haul and plopped down in the indicated chair.

We chatted about the history of the coat and my preparations for my next play while I worked my hands through his hair, gathering small handfuls of it into tight bunches to tie off or pin up in order make it easier to pin the wig in place, and to keep any telltale wild locks from escaping.

I idly took note of his posture while I worked: a casual slouch, utterly relaxed. I smiled. We'd come a long way together from those first suspicious days in Gallopolis when he figured I wasn't any use to him whatsoever. Now he trusted me enough to put both his hair and the quality of his disguise directly into my hands without a second thought.

  


* * *

  


It was my idea for Erik to become Heliodor’s spymaster, you know. Well, kind of. At least I was the one who said it out loud first.

There was a formal ball, and El had talked the event up to Mia, so of course Mia badgered Erik into bringing her to it. Erik pretended to be annoyed, but even then, I thought he kind of liked dressing up, and Gemma made him a gorgeous suit for it.

He still wasn’t quite comfortable trying to deal with Heliodor nobility face to face at that point in time, though, and when the rest of our old gang got absorbed in the festivities, he had a tendency to wander off. I imagined he knew of some nook or cranny to hide himself away and he would amuse himself by picking out hypothetical marks. Or maybe he was playing cat and mouse with the guards, and Hendrik was too polite to complain about it.

I wasn’t too far off in my guesses, but I didn’t find that out until the next day, when Jade invited our old team for lunch.

Jade always had a few little complaints about being a queen, and she was letting off steam. We were all happy to let her relax and be herself for a bit. “I just wish I had someone to tell me about all the things no one will say to my face,” she said that day.

“I do hear some things, you know,” I offered. “Like the club of gentlemen who made a pact that none of them will get married until you do, out of the hopes of one of them marrying onto the throne.”

“Oh yeah,” Erik said, rolling his eyes. “The ones who keep cornering other eligible guys who aren’t in their clique and telling them they better not marry any upper class girls until then?” 

Hendrik frowned. “One would imagine if they are pursuing such a scheme, they would be glad to have less competition.”

“Oh, it’s because they all want to be king, but they know only one of them could hypothetically win Jade over,” Erik explained. “So they want to make sure all the other rich single ladies aren’t already taken when it’s all over.”

“Seriously?” Jade muttered, rubbing a hand over her face. “I think I might want a list so I can avoid the lot of them, if they’re serious.”

I tilted my head and said to Erik, “I don’t doubt it’s true, but where did you hear that, darling?”

Erik shrugged. “I can only take so much of a big party at once, okay? I usually find a corner to take a breather, but I’ve had to get creative about it because other people keep hogging all the corners to have their little secret chats. They don’t check behind the curtains or up in the rafters.”

“Trust you to find a way to steal a secret by accident, darling,” I said affectionately. “Any other little tidbits you have for us?”

Erik shrugged. “What are you into? Lord Ammolite’s been sending love poems to a lady twenty years older than him. Petalite’s training her entire household in combat, because she doesn’t want to look like she’s recruiting a standing army, but she doesn’t trust her neighbors. Sir Orthoclase is apparently colorblind, but he was so rude to so many tailors that they all decided to band together and give him clashing trim and accessories any time they thought they could get away with it.”

“That one’s true,” Gemma admitted with a faint blush. El smiled impishly.

I smiled a little at the tailors’ revenge, too, but Jade tilted her head and said, “Lady Petalite? That could be useful to know. I wonder why her neighbors are making her nervous.”

“Probably because they both want her land, but she’s turned both of them down as suitors,” Erik elaborated, surprising me a little with the depth of his knowledge. “Sounds like they’ve tried to pull things like, oh, wandering into her orchards and helping themselves to a wagonload of fruit. Claiming her father had a standing deal that said they could do it when they felt like it. I’d guess they keep testing what they can get away with, and she’s feeling nervous.”

“Maybe I should have a talk with her,” Jade said.

“She’d probably like that. She has a habit of looking up every other lady landholder and trying to make friends with them.”

“I don’t suppose you could figure out if the other two neighbors are plotting anything specific?”

“I’ve seen them skulking off together at these shindigs. Wouldn’t be hard for me to listen in.”

“Erik the Spymaster. Why didn’t we think of this sooner?” I said with a wink. Erik laughed, and most of the room chuckled along. But Jade gave us a long, thoughtful look, and that was the start of it.

  


* * *

  


Not that they told us at first. I think Jade was shy about letting us know, when the concept of creating secret intelligence for herself was such a new idea to her. Or maybe she figured secrets were better kept by fewer people.

Hendrik must have known, too, but, well. Henny wasn’t talking to me much that year, after I’d gone and confessed my long-standing attraction only to discover that he wasn’t interested in romance with anyone at all. It might have been easier for us both to pretend I hadn’t said anything if it wasn’t for the band. And the dancers. And the very large banner. In the middle of the city. I admit, it was my mistake. I thought he was just having trouble getting the hint. I hadn’t realized that he’d already been bending over backwards to turn down my advances without giving any offense.

Anyhoo, even though the spy business was my idea, it still came as a bit of a surprise the first time Erik caught me backstage to ask for help with a disguise.

“I need to look like I belong at a fancy party, without having anyone remember much about me,” he said.

“How big of a party? Whose party? Really, darling, you shouldn’t feel bad about having people remember you. You might make a friend!”

He gave me a crooked smile and said, “I mean I don’t want to go as myself. I just need to hear some rumors and it’s gonna be easier if I can ask a question or two as a stranger who belongs.”

“Tired of picking up gossip from behind the curtains, honey?”

“Yeah, something like that. Anyway, I figured you might have advice about how to fit in, and maybe you could help with a costume?”

“You’ve certainly come to the right place, honey. But why...Aha! Did Jade make you her spymaster after all?”

“Don’t say that out loud!”

“She did? Ooh!” I squealed. “Wonderful! Come on, tell old Sylv all about it!

“I can’t tell you all about it, Sylv. That kinda defeats the purpose.”

“Oh, phooey. Okay, tell me what you can, and start by telling me everything you need.”

I practically dragged him into the costume room, but I guess I didn’t scare him off with my enthusiasm, because he came back again the next week, and the week after that, and it got to the point where I expected him to unexpectedly drop in on me. I never minded in the least.

  


* * *

  


“Anything you can tell me about tonight’s job?” I asked, because I was incurably nosy, and sometimes he did tell me things.

Erik shrugged. “Might not be anything to it. Overheard a rumor that a Lord Danburite has been talking about a big plan that’s going to catch some people’s attention, and he kept dropping hints about it last week at a dinner party. Hoping he might say a little more today.”

“Danburite? That rings a bell. Hmm. Tall fellow, deep voice, likes to introduce himself with a grand flourish?”

“You’re one to talk.” Erik smirked up at me.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” I said with a wink. “We had a Danburite audition for this latest play. He wasn’t half bad, but he didn’t quite make the cut.”

“Oh yeah? What role was he going for?”

“The other lead.”

“Oh, really? So he missed out on getting to kiss you on stage? Poor guy.”

I laughed at Erik’s exaggerated sympathy, and he grinned. I said, “If he doesn’t give up, there could be hope for him yet at our next production! He had potential.”

“I bet that’s the thought that really keeps him going,” Erik interjected.

I smiled and continued, “And Lapis, have you met Lapis? My co-star? About your size, voice an octave lower?”

“No, but I’ve seen him on stage.”

“Ah. Well, he probably isn’t going to try for the next show. His wife’s expecting.”

“Congrats to him. Lapis, huh. That reminds me, I think I need a new name, too. I’ve used my go-to’s too many times. You still keeping that list?”

“I sure am.” I finished tying off another lock of hair, and then I bounced over to the cabinet where I kept those kinds of notes. I pulled out a likely looking folder and checked the label on the front: Forbidden Secrets of Heliodor. Not that anything in there was particularly forbidden, but “Notes About Heliodor” would have been a boring name. It had all kinds of information that was useful when writing or adapting local characters for a play. “First try! And then...Mm-hmm, gem names.”

I picked out the page where I’d drawn a gemstone in the corner to help me find it when I wanted it. The list had space for notes about historical figures and current notables who were named after various gemstones. That was the fashion in Heliodor, to the point that it might as well have been law amongst the upper class, and even the lower class tended to adopt it more often than not. Any character who abandoned the scheme would most likely be interpreted as a foreigner.

I tended to be more interested in the list options that hadn’t been used in any high-profile way, or the ones that were so common as to be uninteresting. Obviously if I named a character Jade, there would be political implications, but nobody much cared about, oh…

“Larimar? Larimar sounds okay,” Erik said, looking at the page.

“I like it. I was thinking about using it in a script sometime, but won’t be for another year at least, I don’t think.”

“Got it. Don’t think I’ll need this guy for that long,” Erik said, gesturing at the fur coat.

“I’ll try to remember to let you know in advance.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ll ask if I need to know.”

“All right, darling. Well, hair’s about handled. Ready for the eyebrows?”

“Sure.”

Erik shut his eyes while I fetched the appropriate jar and began to carefully apply the tiny brush, tinting his eyebrows dark to match the wig.

“You’re using an upper class Heliodoran accent, then?” I said while I worked.

“Yes, that is the idea,” he answered, dropping into the formal mode of speech. His “Hendrik voice,” as I’d once heard him call it.

“Would you like to practice?”

“That would be most welcome.” He undercut the serious tone with a quick, lopsided smile.

“Can I interest you in this mysterious-looking jelly from far off lands?” I prompted. “Only a fifty-fifty chance it’s made out of a slime.”

“It is okay, I have already eaten.”

“You said—”

“I know, I caught it as I said it. I said ‘okay’ instead of ‘all right’ again. All right. It is all right, I have already eaten.”

“Good. And who is your tailor?”

He named the merchant responsible for the borrowed coat. I complimented his attention to detail, and I moved on to run through other likely conversational prompts, pointing out a couple of occasions where his vowels slipped just a little into the wrong accent.

I rarely bothered to correct my own speech this way. I liked my accent. It was comfortable. Reminded me of home. More importantly, people often told me it was appealing. Melodic. Alluring. I did choose to rein it in a bit for some specific performances, mainly plays where I was acting as a local-born character with no excuse for a foreign accent, but it was much more common that I played it up.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t hear an accent in somebody else’s speech. Erik had a tendency to blur different dialects together when he wasn’t paying attention, but he could and would change his speech patterns a little bit depending on who he was talking to, and he’d shown a real talent for sticking to a given accent once he started making an effort.

“Are you sure you don’t want to audition for the next play, honey? I’m sure you’d put on a great show.”

“I do not believe that it would be in my best interest to publicly reveal my ability to disguise my true nature,” he said, giving the declaration an air of snooty condescension. Then he smirked and broke character, lapsing into his regular mode of speech to add, “Anyway, I’d hate to make Danburite into my nemesis by swiping the kissing part away from him for the second time."

“Ah, such wise restraint. Indeed, wars have been fought over less,” I claimed, pressing my fingertips to my chest and affecting an expression of remorse.

“Oh, so that’s what Calasmos was really after.”

I cackled and swatted his shoulder. “All right, honey. Anything else you want? Moustache? Eyepatch? Mole?”

“Maybe a mole. The moustaches itch, and I don’t like to mess with my vision on this kind of job.”

“Got it. One mole, coming up. Anywhere in particular?”

“Wherever.”

“Tip of the nose.”

“Not tip of the nose.” Erik rolled his eyes with a small smile. “I want it to be the feature people remember when they think of me, not so eye-catching that everyone’s compelled to look at me.”

“Okay, okay. Here?” I tapped a fingertip to the top corner of his cheek. “I don’t think you touch this part of your face very often.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

I dipped a couple of fingertips into my sleeve to pull out a handkerchief from one of the special pockets I still kept compulsively adding to all of my shirt sleeves. Even if I wasn’t focused on cultivating an air of mystery about my person these days, since I was making a perfectly good name for myself with the theater, the pockets were awfully handy, and I didn’t see any reason to give them up.

Erik didn’t even blink at the sleight of hand, of course. He’d learned all my little tricks years ago. Even when I dampened the cloth and rubbed it over his face to prepare the skin for the cosmetic addition, he didn’t react, which was a newer development.

I smiled to myself, remembering how flustered he’d gotten the first time he let me apply costume makeup the previous year, whether it was from proximity, personal attention, or only being self-conscious about altering his appearance. Of course that sort of reaction was hardly unusual for an actor new to the stage. But now he was relaxed as any of my co-stars preparing for a dress rehearsal.

I guess I wasn’t the only one feeling nostalgic, because he said, “Remember the time you helped me dress up as a total nerd? I don’t think I ever told you the highlight of that one.”

“The turtleneck?” I asked, thinking of the group’s running joke over Hendrik’s fashion choices, and the time Erik agreed to mimic the look for a disguise.

“Heh. No, the monocle.”

“Oh! Right. The sales engineer?”

“Yeah. Trying to scope out that mansion by talking my way in and trying to sell him on a sewage upgrade.”

“Yes, I do remember you saying something about completely failing to impress him with your knowledge.”

“Yeah, he wasn’t quite stupid enough for me to bluff my way through the pitch. Even if I hadn’t...heh. Okay, I was pretty embarrassed at the time, so I didn’t mention this part, but I actually brought back a replacement for the monocle you lent me. See, the biggest problem with my pitch was that I leaned over to look inside, and I dropped the original in the toilet.”

“What?” I exclaimed.

Erik flushed a little and grinned sheepishly. “Guess I shoulda practiced wearing the thing a little longer, first. Just fell right off my face, and I was so distracted over trying to make up convincing sounding gibberish about pipes at the same time as memorizing the window placement that I flubbed the catch and just dropped it right in.”

I laughed, then apologized. “I’m sorry, darling. I know a monocle isn’t the easiest thing to wear.”

He waved a hand, still smiling. “Eh, if that’s the worst mistake I’ve made, I think I can count myself lucky.”

“I’d say so, honey.” I finished with the beauty mark and gestured at the mirror on the table. “This work really suits you, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. I guess it does.” His focus shifted upward on the mirror and he threw a different kind of smile at my reflection. “Who would have thought the thief would go from trying to steal from the crown to spying for it, instead?”

“Oh, I always imagined you’d end up doing something magnificent. If not this, then something equally fabulous, like, oh, becoming a world-renowned archaeologist, or single-handedly rescuing a city, or starting your own kingdom, or something like that.”

He laughed at that, and he reached like he was going to run a hand through his hair, the way he did when he was feeling self-conscious, but he stopped when he touched the wig. “Spy is equally fabulous to starting a kingdom, huh?”

“Well, I think so. It takes a pretty special sort of person to be good at it and also willing to do it, don’t you think? And I’d certainly be just as excited to hear a story about one as the other. Maybe moreso. There’s something thrilling about shadows and secrets, eh?”

“Uh, sure, I guess,” he said, still looking faintly off balance. Then he closed his eyes and laughed softly. “I guess that’s as good an explanation as any for how I ended up here. Didn’t want to have to explain myself to you lot if I was going to do crimes for my own benefit, but now I’m looking back at it, I guess I did miss the rush of getting away with something sneaky. This way, I still get to do that, but it’s for a good cause.”

“I know Jade appreciates your help. And the whole city appreciates Jade’s leadership.”

“All the good bits of the city do, anyway. Think I’m in position to know about the other parts. Can’t say I think much of those other parts. Goddess, it’s a night and day difference between the people who thrived under Mordebutt’s rule versus Jade’s.”

“It sure is. I’m almost surprised I managed to find any kind of theater community when I visited the city back while Stinkegon was here.” We traded faintly amused smiles at the nicknames; this was an old joke, the kind where the humor wore away and left a core of familiarity and nostalgia. “But art finds a way!”

“Sure seems like people were starved for it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the whole city excited about the same thing outside of news about royalty, up until the theater was a thing.”

“Well if you say it, it must be true. Thank you for letting me know, darling.”

“As if you need more praise and adulation.”

“Honey, I always need more praise and adulation.”

Erik laughed. “You do, don’t you? Well, I guess I should get out of your hair so you can get ready to earn some more of it.”

“Okay. Have a nice infiltration, darling. Break a leg!”

“Thanks, Sylv.”

I waved goodbye, and I went back to my own costume adjustments with a smile that lasted the rest of the afternoon.

  


* * *

  


The play we were running that month was one of my personal favorite stories. It called for a feminine lead who was taller than the masculine lead, because the story involved a rather charming romance between a tall, strong country girl and a slight, gentle merchant boy.

I’d been half prepared to take a step back and let someone else take the leading roles on this one, since I’d never meant to star in every production in this theater, but almost all of the women who had auditioned were shorter than all of the men who had auditioned. The one young lady who met the description forgot half her lines when she took her turn. We’d ended up putting her in a supporting role to get a little experience on stage, because I could see she had potential, but the theater was still new and still the talk of the town, and I couldn’t convince myself to leave all of it to less experienced performers when I was right there.

So I handed the director role back over to the old theater friend who’d handled it all the other times, and I took the role of leading lady. It didn’t feel like any more of a stretch than playing leading man, not to me.

Part of me did feel a tiny bit guilty for hogging so many of the high-profile roles in the new theater. But most of me was simply delighted to be in the spotlight, sharing a story about love.

The gist of it was simple enough: the boy and girl fall in love, the boy inconveniently falls off a cliff and gets lost in the wilderness, the girl thinks she’s been stood up and resigns herself to a loveless marriage, and then the boy shows up at the last moment to save her from that terrible fate. Of course, when you fill in the details and act it all out, it’s very sweet and romantic.

This evening’s performance moved along like a well-greased set of wheels. We were approaching our last performance, now, and everyone had the hang of their roles. It was a pleasure to land every line just right, and to have faith that everyone else in the team would do the same.

So it took me completely by surprise when I finished my second-to-last scene, headed backstage to change into a bridal gown, and I heard my name.

“There they are. Sylv!” came an aggressive whisper.

“What’s wrong, darling?” I murmured, glancing over as I beelined for my waiting costume. Then I almost tripped as I gawked at the scene I found in the middle of the room.

Lapis, who should have been ready for his grand re-entry as my lost paramour, was slouched sideways in a chair, with a couple of stagehands propping him more or less upright. His wig and coat were gone.

Another man lay prone at his feet, with a strip of cloth tied into his mouth. “Danburite?” I breathed in astonishment, just barely conscious of the need to stay quiet during the ongoing performance. The would-be actor glowered up at me.

And one more man stepped forward. He wore Lapis’s missing jacket and distinctive blonde wig, and he whispered, “Sorry. Sorry. I couldn’t stop him in time. But I am going to do what I can to make it right.”

I squinted at the third man, then my eyes widened and I opened my mouth to say his name.

“Larimar,” Erik interrupted, and he stepped forward to shake my hand. “My name’s Larimar. Listen, this fellow—” he nudged Danburite with his toe— “Decided to drug your co-star. Everyone’s going to be fine, but he can’t move his limbs.”

Lapis added, “I can speak just fine, so they’ll carry me out behind the chapel wall, and I’ll say my lines through the window. Our new friend here fits my clothes, and he knows the part, so he’s going to be my body double.”

I wasted several seconds staring, then set aside a thousand questions and only whispered to Erik, “You know how the scene goes?” As they say, the show must go on.

“Sure. I have seen it enough times,” Erik whispered back, to my faint surprise, because I hadn’t known he’d attended any more than opening night. “Trust me. Go change.”

Well, that settled that. I trusted Erik with my life; it wasn’t such a stretch to trust him with my art. 

And there was hardly time to work out any other plan, anyway. I finished changing just barely in time for my cue, and I headed out into the chapel scene.

Of course I was a little uneasy, still, after seeing my co-star afflicted, a villain apprehended, and me not stepping in to address any of it. But that wasn’t my job right now. I had to trust Erik and my team, and keep to my own part instead.

I managed to channel my unease into my performance: the reluctant bride wishing for a way out. I really think it might have turned out to be my best performance of that scene, yet.

And if I couldn’t help smiling when I turned around at my new co-star’s objection to the wedding, well, that was certainly in character, too.

“Not even a raging river could keep me from you. I have returned from the depths of the wilderness, though I survived with naught but the clothes on my back. I rejoice that I made it in time. I will not see you marry someone you don’t love.”

Erik’s mouth moved almost perfectly in time with the words, but it was decidedly not Erik’s voice. If my smile held a little amusement over the deep bass rumble purporting to come from Erik’s mouth, I was certain it could pass for the sheer delight that my character’s response called for.

I turned back to face my character’s would-be groom. “I am sorry, I cannot wed for mere practicality. I thought my heart lost, that night of the storm, but it has come alive once again!”

I spun away from the groom, abandoning him with his hand outstretched toward me. I lifted my skirts and lightly ran forward to meet Erik instead.

He hopped up on a wooden pew so that he stood just a bit higher than I did. I readied myself to improvise as needed, but he moved in the same way that my co-star had done in the prior performances: his downstage hand reaching for mine at a low angle so as not to block our faces; his upstage hand catching my shoulder to pull me closer, then moving up to guide my face towards his.

I moved where he signalled, more than willing to follow his lead. If he wanted to make this a quick peck, well, it wouldn’t ruin the scene. Many people hesitated to show public displays of affection, and these characters would be believable that way, too.

But he didn’t stop at a peck. He gave me a respectable smooch: not scandalously busy, but more than a light brush of the lips. He pressed his mouth against mine, and he held it there for several heartbeats before he withdrew.

For an instant afterwards, he looked me in the eyes with a serious expression. I smiled at him, because it’s what my character was supposed to do, but it would have been a challenge to do anything else, between my love of the scene, the fact that I’d just kissed Erik, of all people, and my lingering astonishment over the entire turn of events.

He mirrored the smile back at me. I thought I caught a trace of genuine amusement in his face before I exclaimed my next line, and he hopped back down to the floor to offer me his arm, and we walked together to exit the stage.

  


* * *

  


“So you were wearing a wig over your wig?” I asked Erik when he turned up again a few hours later.

“That’s your first question?” Erik asked. “You took the second wig off of me, yourself.”

“I know. I can’t stop thinking about it, because it’s the funniest part of the whole night. And I couldn’t even tell anyone.”

“Sorry,” Erik said, but he was smirking as he plopped down in the chair. “Get the first wig off of me?”

“Of course.” I hesitated for just a second before I touched his original wig, sparing a thought to wonder if I should do anything differently, because it’s not every day you kiss a good friend and then try to pretend it didn’t mean anything. But there was no reason to imagine it had meant anything, beyond the fact that he was a good friend helping my little troupe out of a tight spot.

And Erik certainly wasn’t acting any differently than usual. He looked as much like a lazy cat as he always did when he stopped by after a long job to solicit my help in extracting him from a complex costume: relaxed and sprawling, like he’d already shed part of the disguise and was enjoying the lack of restraint.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it in time to stop Lapis from drinking the drink.”

“It worked out well enough, but what all did happen with that? You booked it out of there pretty quick, after the show.”

“Yeah, sorry. Didn’t want to get into it with the guards. I dropped a note for Jade so they won’t waste too much time looking for the nonexistent Third Son Larimar.”

“Makes sense.”

“Well, it wasn’t that far off from the story I gave for Lapis and everyone. I heard Danburite talking himself up, making a bunch of stage puns and looking smug, and I followed him after his party. He brought a bottle of wine, barged in backstage here, and he’d just convinced Lapis to take a drink when I walked in. I made up something about a theater tradition of a gifter sharing a toast with the actor, and kinda bullied him into taking a drink himself, you know, ‘What’s wrong with it that you aren’t willing to drink it, is it poisoned or something?’ So he drank, too, and he pretended to be surprised when the paralysis set in.”

“How did you know it was drugged?”

“Well, he got on my watch list in the first place because I know an apothecary who sells some borderline legal items. Nothing really deadly, but he could get in trouble if the wrong people kicked up a fuss. I told the guy I’d help keep him in the clear if he passes along information about the sketchy sales he makes, and Danburite was one of the buyers.”

“So that’s why nobody was panicking. You knew it wasn’t some deadly poison.”

“Right.” He glanced up at me. “Keep the apothecary thing secret, will you? I don’t want to out him, I just didn’t want you to think I was being careless with anyone’s life.”

“I never imagined you were. But your secret’s safe with me.” I paused in removing the wig from Erik’s head, and I rubbed my forehead. “The thing I don’t get is: why? Was old Danny angry about getting passed up for the audition? Was this about revenge?”

“Kind of. Near as I can figure, Danburite wanted to pretend it was an accident and take over the part, basically the same way I ended up doing. Only I guess he wanted to do the meet and greet afterwards and dramatically claim that it was him all along for tonight’s performance.” Erik shrugged. “Seems a little extreme just to look like an actor for one random night in the middle of your season, but he was weirdly obsessed, and apparently not a very patient guy.”

I nodded, pulled the wig free, and set it aside. “They took him off to jail while they figure out what to do with him.”

“Good.”

“I don’t think he’s going to make it through auditions, after all.”

“Yeah, I should hope not.”

“Thank you for stepping in and taking over the part. You didn’t have to do that, but it really helped keep the show under control, and I’m grateful.”

“You’ve helped me out so many times, it’s nice to be able to do something for you, for once.” Erik caught me off guard with a rather sweet little smile.

“Aww,” I said, clasping my hands over my heart.

He gave a soft laugh and ran a hand through his newly freed hair. “Anyway, I think that’s it for Third Son Larimar. Don’t wanna have to duel Danburite over stealing his ploy.”

I almost made a crack about competition for kissing me, but he’d done me such a favor, and I decided I didn’t want to risk making him regret it, so I kept it to myself. “Guess I’ll put the wig back in the pile, then,” I said instead.

“Thanks as always, Sylv,” he said, standing up to leave.

“Any time at all, darling, and thank you too.” I blew a kiss at him, which was entirely in our range of normal interactions, was never serious, and had nothing to do with kissing a good friend on the mouth, because it would have been unprofessional to still be thinking about that. He smiled, shook his head at me, and waved as he left.

As I finished tidying up, I murmured to myself, “Wigs for your wigs? The life of a spymaster is more complicated than I ever imagined. Somebody should write a play about this.”


End file.
